Kisses are a better fate than wisdom
by VervainAndRoses
Summary: She was always getting him in trouble, but most of the time, he did not mind at all. 9 year old Mary and Francis, a race, and a fountain.


Francis was staring at old man. He couldn't help it, is mustache was funny and his accent even more, and he was so, so very bored of sitting there and hearing him speak.

He raised his hand.

"Yes, my Lord? Any questions?"

"¿Can I be excused for a moment?" he asked, his knee bobbing up and down to carry the message that he really needed to use the chamber pot. (Maybe not that urgently, but he would fall asleep if he didn't move soon.)

"Very well," the tutor said, waving his hand, and Francis all but bolted out of the room to his nearby chambers.

It was a few minutes later, as he walked back to the library and his geography tutor, that he saw her. Mary was perched on the windowsill, seemingly enthralled by the view outside. She certainly wasn't there before, her feet dangling of the edge because she couldn't reach the floor yet. He could, with the tips of his shoes (she said that didn't count, he thought differently).

Her long black hair was loose, and her white dress looked rumpled. _Like always, _Francis thought, rolling his eyes.

"Where were you?" she asked, once she turned and saw him approaching (running his plans of sneaking up on her).

"Peeing," he said simply.

He suppressed a laugh as he watched her jump down from the windowsill, struggling with her dress.

"I was waiting for you," she said, dusting off herself. "Do you want to go play?" she asked him hopefully, her big brown eyes lighting up with excitement.

"I-"

"Francis, maybe we could go to the gardens!" she exclaimed, not letting him get a word in. "And see the fountains again, but without my nurse holding me back. I so liked-"

"I can't," he stopped her rambling sharply, and he instantly felt bad. She looked down and got that frown that scrunched up her forehead.

"Oh," she muttered.

"I'm in the middle of a lesson," he explained, as if that made it better. It didn't.

"Oh," she said again, her eyes drifting to the window behind her, the sun shining bright outside. "Well, perhaps tomorrow, then?" she asked, and he nodded sadly. "I'll go…see if Elizabeth wants to come," she told him as she turned around, walked down the long hallway.

He continued his path, for surely his tutor would be angry that he took so long, but something didn't feel right. He didn't want Mary to play with Elizabeth or with her ladies in the gardens. _He_ wanted to be the one playing with her out there, and making her laugh. But he was so busy, and he had to be a good King someday and Kings need to know everything there is to know about their country. Still, he looked back at her walking away.

"Mary, wait!" She stopped and looked back at him, a smile slowly spreading on her face. He took off running then, and she shrieked as he starting chasing after her, her laughter bouncing off the walls.

Even with the advantage she had he still caught her, his fingers stretching until he caught the red ribbon of her dress and pulled her to a stop-the ribbon ending up in his hand. He laughed- even as he struggled to catch his breath. He'd never ran so much until she'd gotten here.

"It's not fair!" she complained, and her pout put a smug smile on his face.

"Seems fair enough to me," he told her, and she made a face at him.

"That's not ladylike," he teased her, waving her ribbon at her.

"I'm not a lady, I'm a Queen," she said, jutting her chin up at him and putting her hands on her waist. "Now give it back!" she tried to grab it from him but he stepped away.

"You'll have to catch me first!" he said, turning a corner and almost colliding with a noble before sidestepping him and running down the hall, Mary quite a ways behind him, struggling to catch up.

He laughed until he ran in front of the throne room, and remembered that he might have been 9, but he wasn't supposed to be playing, not ever, and especially not now, when he was supposed to be in a lesson. But Mary made him forget those things.

He ducked into the next hallway and waited for her, grabbing her shoulder when she passed him by.

"Wait!"

.

"You're mean," she grumbled, once they were both sitting down on the edge of the deserted corridor.

"You're slow," he was quick to answer her.

"I'm_ smarter_," she retorted.

"Says who?" he asked her, twirling her ribbon in his hand, just out of her reach.

"I just know."

"That's not an answer."

"Does France want war against Scotland?" Mary asked him, raising an eyebrow at him.

"I…." it was not the first time she'd left him speechless, and it took him a moment to realize that he could actually joke about their countries. "I can't say she does," he finally answered her, conceding, and it was her turn to show him a smug smile.

"Then I suggest her dauphin keeps his mouth closed, " she said, reaching for the ribbon that he let slip through his fingers. She laughed at his expression as she hastily tied back –just in case her nurse showed up and chastised her, again- and then he was laughing as she tried to tie a ribbon behind her back, the sharp knobs of her shoulders popping out, and then they were both laughing, as if a war had not just been threatened and avoided.

A few minutes later, after a guard asking their majesties if they needed any assistance sent them running down the hallway, they both decided to go play in the gardens –even if they were at the other side of the castle- on account of how his mentor and her nurse would probably be looking for them inside the castle (Francis), and how lovely and sunny the day looked outside (Mary and Francis), and also _Come on, Francis, why not._ (A hand pulling Mary.)

.

"You go count, and I'll hide," he said, once they were stepping on the dewy green grass of the south lawn.

"Why do I have to count?" she asked him, all the while walking towards the fountains (where no one would stop her if she wanted to dip her hands in, not this time).

"Because I won back there," Francis told her, as if it was obvious-which it was. Her forehead was all scrunched up again as she sat down on the fountain's edge, crossing her arms.

"I don't remember competing over that," she threw at him, leaving him baffled.

"It's the rules," he said, shrugging. He wasn't sure if it was the rules or not, but where he was really good at running, Mary was really good at hiding-and he did not want to go looking for her.

"Fine, then we have to compete again," she said, and he started smiling. He was going to win again - "but not a race." She interrupted his thoughts.

"Then what?" he asked her sitting next to her on the fountain.

A smile broke out on her face slowly, showing him the space where her tooth used to be.

"I have an idea!"

.

_"__What in God's name are you doing?!" _

A distorted screech was heard all through the castle gardens, and even underneath the water the children perceived the fuming, confused sound.

They both pulled their heads out of the fountain, their competition over who could hold their breath the longest cut for short by a huffing-and-puffing, red faced, very angry nurse coming towards them, tripping over her court heels as she walked down the slope.

They both looked at each other, their eyes wide, before they burst out laughing at the sight. They stood up, hands brushing down pants and fingers trying to comb back dripping hair to no avail. The lady was getting closer now.

Francis went serious all of a sudden as he saw his tutor at the top of the small hill, his eyes angry as well, but even worse, disappointed. In him. Mary noticed, her own smile fading, it was her fault after all.

"Francis?" she asked, and he looked down at her –he'd gotten taller than her during the summer- his blue eyes full of apprehension. The nurse was almost there, crying over their clothes and the danger and the disobedience

"What?" he asked quickly.

She pressed her lips to his wet cheek really fast.

"I'm sorry I got you in trouble," she told him sheepishly, just as the nurse reached them and grabbed each of them by their hands, hurrying back to the castle- but Francis touched his palm to his cheek, and found he wasn't sorry at all.

* * *

**a/n: Thanks for reading :)**

** Just some fluffy kid!Frary. Hopefully some cheering up after the past couple of episodes.**

**Tittle from the E.E Cummings poem**.


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